


Worth a Thousand Words

by EventHorizon



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, Photographs, start of a relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-28
Updated: 2014-06-28
Packaged: 2018-02-06 14:32:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1861434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EventHorizon/pseuds/EventHorizon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lestrade finds a surprise in Mycroft's office, one that Mycroft desperately needs to explain...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worth a Thousand Words

      “Ah, Detective Inspector, how good of you to come.”

A memo on his desk when he returned from a meeting commanding his presence wasn't exactly a cordial invitation, so kindly keep your pleasantness to yourself.  Twat.

      “Of course, sir.  What can I do for you?”

Like the nonchalance?  Your scepter waving doesn’t shake Greg Lestrade.  Mature, professional men don’t hand-wring just because they’ve been summoned by His Lord Majesty with a wave of his mighty scepter.  Great… now fingers had to be crossed that Mycroft Holmes wasn’t a mind reader because that last bit sounded particularly filthy and he did _not_ have time to be executed this afternoon.  John would be a complete bastard if he was late for their drink-and-moan-about-Sherlock pub night!

      “Nothing excessive, I assure you.  Simply a small chat about your latest case that involved my brother.  It seems he perturbed your investigation to rather a staggering degree.”

Oh, that.  Sherlock flying through ward after ward of the hospital chasing their Angel of Mercy suspect.  Patients clutching at their hearts, mothers clutching at their newborns, him clutching at the air as he tried to grab the stupid git’s coat… that had been a wonderful afternoon.  The hour’s dressing-down by the hospital administrator, then by his own superior was the lovely dollop of cream on the cake.  Why he hadn’t expected another hour of haranguing by the mighty Mycroft, he had no idea.  Brain damage, most likely.

      “Look, I’m sorry about that, sir.  Sometimes he just takes off and I can’t…”

      “Good heavens, Detective Inspector!  I am not chiding you, if that is your concern.”

      “Oh… well, that’s good to know.  So… why am I here?”

      “I thought we might take the opportunity to discuss Sherlock’s future trajectory with the police force.  I was hoping to…”

The ringing of the phone on Mycroft’s desk did not seem to please the man, but he made the ‘just one moment’ gesture and answered it anyway.  After a few minutes, Lestrade got up to stretch his legs and take a better look at the office surrounding him.  Plush, posh, clean… lots of books and the sorts of knick knacks that looked like they’d been bought by and placed by a decorator, not things that held any real meaning to the room’s occupant.  Except one.  One.  That one.  That one right there.  The one sort of off the beaten track of someone glancing around the room and not likely to be noticed unless you knew it was there.  Ok…

For his part, Mycroft made as quick work as possible of his caller, and when he focused his attention on the seat across the desk, he was slightly confused to find it empty.  Looking about, he experienced the heart stoppage he never assumed he would endure until he had consumed a far greater quantity of saturated fats than he had yet seen in this life.

      “Mr. Holmes?”

      “Ah.”

      “Sir?”

      “That is… yes.”

      “That didn’t make any sense.  Sort of like this photograph.”

      “Ah.”

      “You already said that.”

      “Yes… quite.”

Lestrade looked again at the photo.  The framed photo.  Of him.

      “Want to explain this?”

      “If offered the choice… no.”

      “ _If_ isn’t an option, sir.”

A framed photo of him.  On holiday.  Well… maybe _holiday_ wasn’t exactly the best word…

      “It… it is a minor matter…”

      “Having me under surveillance while I’m on holiday is _not_ a minor matter.”

      “I did no such thing!”

      “Then how did you get that photograph!”

      “I… this conversation is inane.”

      “How.  Did.  You.  Get.  That.  Photograph?”

      “If you must know…”

      “Yeah, I must.”

      “I… I took it myself.”

What?

      “What?”

      “I believe that was a most self-explanatory sentence.”

      “Don’t try and be cute, sir.”

And don’t get up so you can look out of the window and not this way.  This is exactly the type of conversation where you’re supposed to looking directly at the person you’re having it with!

      “As I said, it is a minor issue.  I was tending to… certain matters… in that area of the world and discovered that you were nearby.  I thought to, perhaps, take lunch with you or share a cocktail… two Englishmen far from home in such a sun-parched and godforsaken part of the world... it seemed an appropriately collegial gesture.  The concierge at your hotel directed me towards you and… you did not appear as if you would _welcome_ my collegial gesture.”

No, no he probably wouldn’t.  Or maybe he would have.  Someone to chat with while he drank the sourness out of his soul.

      “Yeah, well… you might be right.  Didn’t expect to be there alone, now did I?  I expect you got the story at some point.”

      “I… made inquiries, yes.  I did not press for details, however.”

That was polite.  For a stalker, that was a very polite thing to do.

      “Not many details to share.  We were seeing each other, I surprised her with a holiday for two and… she told me she’d been looking for the right time to say we were finished.  Decided there was no better time than the present.”

      “I _am_ sorry, Detective Inspector.  That was exceedingly discourteous of her.”

      “Yeah, well… I guess I should have expected it.  The signs were already there.”

      “Signs?”

      “The same worries, the same complaints.  Your job’s too dangerous, you work too much, you’re late too often, you run off at all hours… believe me, it’s not the first time I’ve heard that.  Won’t be the last either, I’m sure.”

Just one more relationship failure in his life.  Nothing to get bothered over.  Yes, the job was demanding, but it wasn’t as if he didn’t really try to make use of what time he _did_ have to make the person in his life happy.  Men or women, it didn’t matter… there didn’t seem to be a person out there who valued what he had to offer.  He was used to it by now.  Not a big issue.  Certainly not worth sitting in the sand pouting, wondering what the fuck was wrong with you that nobody was willing to give you a real chance to show you could make things work. 

      “Anyway, I’d booked the time off and the payment wasn’t refundable, so I decided to take the time for myself and sweep out the cobwebs.  None of which, of course, explains why you actually photographed me out there wallowing in my misery.”

No, that bit has not been forgotten, Mr. Holmes.  And look at you being all upset that your hopes it _would_ be were dashed to pieces.

      “No, I suppose it does not.”

      “Or why it’s in a very fetching frame in your office.”

      “That also remains enigmatic, I must admit.”

      “Well?”

And stop fidgeting with your pens!  Credit will be given for the fact you pulled yourself away from the window, but that’s about to be revoked in a minute if you keep fidgeting and stalling and cutting eyes this way like you hope you’ll be pitied and then left alone.  Which won’t happen.  Nope, that lip thing you’re doing isn’t going to work either.  So stop.  Really, just stop right now.  Do you ever listen?

      “Mycroft?”

      “I have some… small interest in photography.  It is not something I practice often or an amusement that is widely known, but I had with me my camera and… it was a striking scene that I chose to capture and preserve.  It was clear that you were not in a positive frame of mind, but… I must say up front that I abhor sand and salt and… perspiration… however, I wished in that moment to be part of such a scene, with my toes in the sand and the sun warming my skin.  It was a visceral reaction that is unique in my experience and I was compelled to take away with me a token of the moment.”

And don’t you look vulnerable and ashamed of yourself for that confession… Not sure why, though.  That’s… well, that’s a great thing, actually.  Be affected by something and want to take a souvenir home with you.  There will be no dwelling on who is at the center of that _something_ that you took home, except that it’s more than a little flattering that someone like Mycroft Holmes was willing to put that person in his office where he could be seen every day.

      “Ok, that’s an explanation I can support.  And I’ll say thank you for it, because I can tell it wasn’t easy for you to tell me.  It’s a nice photo, too.  Can’t say there are many out there of me that I like, but this one… I do.”

      “Oh… it is now my turn to bestow gratitude, Detective Inspector.  I was certain you would be displeased by this discovery.  It was, I am somewhat embarrassed to declare, an invasion of your privacy during a very personal moment.”

      “It’s fine.  Like I said, it wasn’t something I’m not used to at this point.  One day… maybe I’ll find someone who can accept the demands of my job.  Plenty of fish in the sea, isn’t that what they say?”

That was supposed to be sort of funny, so why was Mycroft staring at him with those serious, laser-intense eyes?

      “What if you were presented with, as you say, a fish who understood clearly the demands on your time and believed you all the more honorable that you did not forsake your responsibilities to those who have sworn to protect and serve?”

Could laser eyes get more lasery?  The evidence said they could since Mycroft was now staring at him like he was trying to read every thought in his head.  Of which there were none.  Big blank slate of nothing inside his skull right now.  Mycroft hadn’t actually explained why he kept that picture here, did he?  Taking it, yes.  Maybe putting it with others he liked and looked at now and again, yes.  Framed it nicely and put it in his private office, no.  _Oh_ …  it seemed the fish circling him was a shark and that shark was waiting for an answer.  Which he didn’t have.  Not really.  Yes, he’d had a few… daydreams… about Mycroft Holmes, but nothing serious.  Who wouldn’t!  He was gorgeous, brilliant, sophisticated, funny, although Sherlock said he was delusional about that… ok, no.  This was insane.  The man was the British Government, for god’s sake!  But laser eyes… and a framed photo…

      “I’d be interested.  I won’t lie, though.  If a fish did swim across my path… well, I’m old-fashioned I guess.  I’m not good with casual relationships, so my fish couldn’t be one who only wanted to be with me because it was convenient or they thought it wouldn’t lead anywhere and that’s what they wanted.  I’m hoping to find someone who I _can_ go somewhere with, if that makes sense.  Maybe it ultimately doesn’t work out, but I don’t leap into things thinking this person will just be a quick shag when I want it.  So… I suppose my fish would need to want the same thing.”

Quick run of hand through hair to check it’s not been set on fire by Mycroft’s eyes.  Hair verified safe.  And the continued staring wasn’t changing that, so well done all around.  _And_ … apparently that’s the end of that.  A man doesn’t walk away from you and get on his phone if he’s interested in pursuing the conversation.  Ok, the dismissal has been given, so there’s no use standing here and waiting to be evicted.  He’d had quite enough of that in his life to enjoy another helping set on his plate.

      “Detective Inspector?  Where are you going?”

      “Ummm… looked like you were getting back to business, so I thought I’d…”

      “Nonsense.  I was merely clearing my agenda for the remainder of the day.  And yours, also.”

      “What?”

      “I accept your terms, Detective Inspector.  Or should I now call you Gregory?  I believe I shall; it is appropriate, under the circumstances.”

      “ _What_?”

      “The situation you desire is one I also covet.  I cannot afford casual interactions in my life, Gregory, but I have longed for something meaningful with a person who recognizes and understands that my time does not fully belong to me.  With your own duties, we may not share volumes of time together, but the time we do have… could be joyful.  I _have_ noticed you, Gregory.  More than noticed, if I am to be honest.  I had hoped that day I took the photograph to, perhaps, broach such a possibility as we are now discussing, but would never show you such disrespect as to intrude upon your contemplation with my wants.  If you are willing, I would like to explore this mutual interest, and I have made a start by guaranteeing us both some time to get to know each other better.  May I offer you an early dinner?  There is a delightful little café I know, utterly unpretentious, yet boasting the most magnificent taste of Provence in London.”

If this was the Twilight Zone, where the hell was Rod Serling?  Mr. Holmes… Mycroft… wanted to take a chance on _him_?  That was crazy!  He was… well, a DI _was_ a good job and… he _had_ been told, in so many words, that he wasn’t the worst person in the world to look at.  Furthermore, if there was one person in the entire world who could sympathize with the rigors of his job it was the man looking at him right now with something much softer than the now-familiar laser eyes.  And giving a smile that wasn’t the normal, slightly smug one he was used to seeing.  This might be the biggest mistake of his life, but if it wasn’t… yeah, he couldn’t pass up this chance.  It could mean passing up the something _very_ special…

      “That sounds great!  I’ll call John on the way and cancel our pub night.”

      “Ah, your traditional evening to commiserate over my brother’s slings and arrows.  Yes, that might be advised as I also hope to escort you for a quiet drink after our meal.  I am familiar with a delightful and antiquated establishment that offers the finest of libations one might imagine, as well as a warm and welcoming atmosphere.  I frequent it rarely as it ever seems an insult to visit such a fine locale alone; however, I am quite eager to share it with you, if you are amenable.”

This was who was hiding behind the amazing suits and smug smiles?  Well, now that the secret was out, he had to say he was very, very pleased.  Very, very, very pleased, as a matter of fact and using three very’s in one sentence wasn’t something he did unless it was very, very, very warranted.

      “I am.  It sounds fantastic!  Exactly like the sort of place I’d fall in love with.”

      “As did I when first I set foot across its threshold.  Let us make a start, then.  I am most anxious to have a more relaxed conversation than can be had in within these walls.”

      “Lead on.  And Mycroft?  I’m glad today went the way it did.  Me catching sight of that photo was an omen, I think.  A good one, too, and I _never_ ignore omens.”

      “Very wise.  One should not tempt fate when one can avoid it.”

A few folders shifted to a tray on the desk, one umbrella in hand and off we go.  This should…

      “Hey!”

 _That_ was a bum brush.  No, it was a bum tweak.  Bordering on fondle.  Might have even crossed the border.  Not that he was complaining.  It was a very _good_ bum fondle…

      “As I said, my dear.  I _have_ noticed.  Some things, perhaps, a bit more than others.”

Oh yes, definitely on the way to something special.  Something very, very, very special indeed…


End file.
